


Hanging On Is Hard To Do

by redlionspride



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Blood, Book of Nile, Booker needs Love, Choking, Community: theoldguardkinkmeme, Descriptions of Hanging, F/M, Gen, Graphic Description, Hanging, M/M, Panic Attacks, Prompt Fill, Torture, asphyxiations, but that's common in this fandom, repeated death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26857945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlionspride/pseuds/redlionspride
Summary: A mission to save some kids has gone wrong. Booker has to relive a death he experienced so very long ago. Hanging. Over and over again. In the cold.How did this happen?How does he get out of it this time?
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 10
Kudos: 144





	Hanging On Is Hard To Do

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt fill for theoldgurdkinkmeme
> 
> Prompt:   
> Booker & any, angst, hanging
> 
> Booker gets hanged by *handwave* someone. A death's a death and normally he'd shrug it off, but this one triggers very bad memories of his first death, and his hands are tied behind his back so, once again, he can't get himself down. He chokes repeatedly until someone on the team cuts him down, which is a nasty way to die even when you get better. Angst, please!
> 
> \+ he tries to keep himself from freaking out with literal gallows humor  
> ++ it fails  
> +++ quynh references  
> +10000 comfort from the team
> 
> Can be gen or involve healing cock/healing vagina, dealer's choice.
> 
> Link: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2726.html?thread=626086#cmt626086

In a small city town in Northern California, Taylorsville, children began to go missing. At first it seemed like a natural occurrence of teens taking off and leaving the small nowhere town at night, but when younger children started to disappear it started to worry the townsfolk. 

“There’s something else going on.” Copley said as he sat with Nile and Booker at his table. He passed a data pad over to the two of them with a withered old hand. 

Nile picked it up, leaning over to play it’s intel where Booker could see with her. “What more than missing children?” But the answer was in her hands. As she flicked through the pictures she got her answers. There were men in cowboy hats, raising pitchforks and torches, yelling at the saloon. A woman in tight jeans and a twisted up flannel shirt stood there, holding the head of a man, blood dripping, mouth dropped, eyes rolled. 

Nile was used to gore but even this felt a bit much. She glanced to Copley, a brow raised. 

“It gets worse. The longer the children are away the angrier the mobs have been. The man’s head is Gus Gonzolvas, a backpacker and tourist who happened to be in town when the first child went missing. He and his group came back through on their return home, and four other kids went missing. They blamed him and their group for the missing kids.” 

“Worse off, they’re keeping the other two people alive. Angie Simmons and Bob Clemons. They seem to think they know where the kids are at, so they’re holding them hostage. Gus? Not so lucky.” 

“So why not send in law enforcement?” Booker said slowly, still flipping through images. Nile looking over at it once in a while. 

“Keep scrolling.” And as Booker did, there were images of Police cars on fire, and cops shot down in cold blood. “The natives are restless.” He shrugged. “We’ve gotten reports that if we send in anyone else, they’d kill Simmons and Clemons and half the town with it. We’re not sure if it is a bomb threat to the town, or a kool aid reference. The entire town borderlines on cult standings.” 

“The woman holding the head. Maria Mossly. She’s some kind of spiritualist there. Seems to run a shop in town and a cult out near the lake. Half the town is in it, the other half appear to be held in fear. Almost captive.” 

Nile whistled, leaning back with her coffee, taking a sip as Booker paused on a map of the town. “So how many children are missing and when did it start.” 

“Six months ago was the first case. A teen boy named John. Three weeks later a girl went missing. Another boy, another girl, always alternating. There have been 8 children in six months gone. The next should be a boy. They don’t know who’s responsible, or why. And the town has flipped it’s lid.” 

Booker handed the pad back to Nile, who glanced over the map and frowned. It had been a long time since the team had been to California. She had been stationed there in the Marines for training some time ago. It felt like forever ago now. 

Copley continued. “This looked like your kind of gig. Law enforcement is stumped and if the Military gets involved the whole town is being wiped off the map.” 

“Like old Sutter in 2049.” Nile said with a snort. The Military had gone down hill over the years, she felt. 

“Like old Sutter.” Copley agreed. “I thought maybe you could go in, do your thing, find the kids and maybe correct some problems while you're there. There’s a woman in town who’s been leaking us information. Two of her children are missing. She’s willing to fund you if you make it in.” 

Nile stood up, sitting her cup of coffee down, half finished. Booker stood up as well, taking the data pad with him.

“So, is that a yes, you’ll take it on?” Copley asked, his old face turned up to the never aging Nile. 

“We’ll see. Booker will be in touch with you within 24 hours, one way or another.” Nile said, giving Copley a salute. “It’s good to see you again, old man.” 

“Always a pleasure seeing you as well, Nile. Booker.” He said, tossing a salute back. “I’ll hear from you within 24 hours. You have my number.” He sipped his coffee, not moving yet, as the other two started to wander away. 

Booker stayed close to Nile and to her left shoulder, just one step behind. He tucked the data pad under his arm and pocketed his hands. “So…” 

“Oh, we’re taking it. I just enjoy making Copley wait sometimes.” She said with a shrug, glancing back to Booker with a frown. “There are kids involved. I know what that means to most of us in the Guard.” 

Booker nodded, frowning as well. Children always struck a hard note for Booker, but Joe and Nicky had a soft spot for them as well. Even Quynh seemed to gravitate towards these forms of cases. 

“Call him around 2 AM.” Nile said and turned a corner. A glance up told her Nicky still had Copley in his sights, but that they were starting to draw back. 

“He’s an old man now, Nile. Be nice.” 

“Midnight?” She said with a faint smile back to Booker. 

“Midnight is nice. You know we’re going to lose him sooner or later.” 

“I know. He said he was training his son to take over, but I’m not sure I trust it.” Nile said, sliding down an alley way towards the stairs to the suite. 

“We’ll have to put him to the test first.” Booker said simply. 

“It’s not time yet. Copley is what? 75?” 

Booker snorted. “He just turned 87 this year. The man does this for fun, Nile. He didn’t retire well.” The year was 2070, and so many things had changed.

“I was never good with age, and you all don’t age, so it just makes it worse.” She snorted, jogging up the metal steps to the second floor, walking down an open corridor towards the team's room. 

Quynh had just climbed up the other side, tucking something away at her belt. Nile nodded to her and the three of them met at a door, knocking. Joe unlocked it and let them in. There was the smell of boxed pizza and beer in the room, and Nicky sitting down to take apart his sniper rifle in a chair near the window. 

“Are we going to do it, boss?” Joe asked Nile as she came in. 

Nile nodded to Booker to pass the data pad to Joe, who took it and switched it on, skimming the images. He walked over to Nicky to lower it so they could both see. “I think so. How often do you see crazy cultist cowboys in this era?” 

Quynh moved to one bed, tossing her piece to the side, removing two knives, and tossing herself down on the bed, pulling her sweater around her tighter and relaxing, looking cozy. She didn’t need to look at the pictures to know she wanted to do it. 

Nile grabbed a slice of pizza, cold and stale, and took a bite. “Are there any disagreements to this case?” She asked, moving to sit on the top of the desk, pushing Booker's laptop to the side. Leaning over crossed legs, she eyed each of her teammates. She might be the leader now that Andy was gone, but she deferred to the others most of the time. Or at least let them weigh in on it. 

“Eight children…” Nicky said, frowning at the images that Joe scanned by. “That’s eight too many.” 

“These men looked crazed.” Joe pointed out, pausing on some of the cowboys with torches. “Like they’re hopped up on drugs of some sort.” 

“We’ve seen it before with cults.” Booker pointed out, taking up a beer and kicking back on another bed, leaning back on the headboard. 

“We have.” Nile agreed, frowning. “So I’m hearing a yes from Nicky. Joe?” 

“Of course.” Joe said, moving to pass Booker back the data pad. 

“Booker, you already agreed, yes?” the man nodded, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. 

“Quynh?” Nile asked next, looking at her get cozy on their bed. 

“Will I be able to take out some of these crazed cowboys?” She asked, peeking out of her sweater hood at Nile. 

“Depends on if they’re attacking. Not all of the town is cultist crazy. But yeah, I’m pretty sure some of them are going to do us wrong.”

“I’m in. I go where you go.” She said rolling over on the bed and closing her eyes. Likely to take a short nap while the rest of them talked.

Booker took the data pad back, and connected it to the internet here, checking some flights from it. “Copley already booked us seats on a flight out tomorrow. Guess he assumed we’d take it.” 

“He knows us too well.” Nile snorted. 

“It’s going to be cold up there. Northern California has snow this time of year.” Booker added, frowning. He’d never liked the snow. Not after how he died in it. 

Quynh wasn’t much for the cold either, and her shudder was silent, but noticed. 

Joe pipped up at that point. “We can grab some cold weather gear easy enough. It’ll help hide the tactical gear anyhow.” 

Nicky put his sniper rifle up, zipping it down and then reaching for his half finished beer. “We’re all in, Boss. Sounds like we’re headed out tomorrow morning?” 

“Sounds like it.” Nile said, looking to Booker. “Did Copley set up anything else for us?” 

“A couple of rent-a-cars. Jeeps, thankfully. Hotel room in a town called Greenville. About 10 miles away from the target town. We can set up shop there and easily head to the other town.” 

“That’s settled. Pack up your gear tonight and get some rest. We’re going hunting.” 

\-----

Two jeeps cruising down Highway 70 at top speed. Nile liked to drive winding twisting roads fast, and Joe was no slouch in the other jeep. They had camping gear and kayaks on the top racks (which hid all manner of weapons as well). 

Booker held on to his seat belt, but his hand was out the open window, waving in the breeze. Behind them Nicky was doing the same thing, like a bird spreading one wing. Quynh sat curled up in the back seat, in a huge coat wrapped around her. 

“It’s getting colder.” She noted. 

Booker rolled his window up and turned back to her. “Nearly 55 and decreasing the higher up we get.” 

“How are you doing back there?” Nile asked, peeking at the woman in the rear view mirror. 

“I’m grateful for the thermal underwear.” Quynh said with a faint smile, leaning her head back and poking at the dials above her head, turning on the heat in the back. 

After a while and a few hair pin turns later, Booker pointed out a road turn off. “Taylorsville is down that way.” he said as they passed it for the next town. There was snow a foot thick on the ground around them by then. 

“I see it. Quaint.” She said, shaking her head. The road that way was about five miles, meaning they had five to go to get to the next town. 

Set up at the old Hotel in Greenville was easy. They carried in a few things here and there, and left a lot with the rigs. An old woman at the counter down stairs greeted them, chew in her lip, old white hair in a braid but still somehow managing to come loose and drift everywhere.

“Welcome to the Sierra Lodge. You must be our hiking group. Weird kind of season to be hiking.” She said before spitting into a can. 

Nile leaned on the counter, her braids twisted back in a bun, wearing thermals under some thick jeans, boots and a thick sweater. She grinned at the woman. “We heard Gray Eagle was nice. And Truckee for skiing. We’re making a whole trip of it.” She said in her best young 20 something voice. 

“Snowshoeing in the countryside outside of Lake Almanor sounded like something we couldn’t pass up.” Joe said cheerfully, pulling out a card to indicate they wanted to pay for the rooms already. He held it out to the woman. 

“Well, alright. I never turn away paying guests.” She said, spit into her can again, took the card (much to Joe’s displeasure of watching her spit) and ran it, charging it for the week. The card came with Copley’s things for the team. All expenses paid. 

After paying for the room they were shown the bigger suite. A two bed one TV room with an old style radio. She pointed out the closet and said there was a fold away cot inside for the fifth person. 

The woman bid them a good trip, and if they needed anything, call the main counter. Someone might pick up. Then she left to go back to her game on the TV down stairs. 

“Well, this is… cozy.” Booker said, shuddering at how cold the room felt. 

Quynh was already at the space heater, cranking it on and feeling a blast of air hit her in the face. She held her hands over the heater and stared out the window. There was a bar nearby. The Way Station. A café across the way, and the all holy pizza place not far away. 

And a lot of snow. 

The team set to work. Setting up a base in the hotel room, but keeping it ‘casual’ in case anyone else walked in on the place. So no weapons in the open. Gear stashed away still. 

They settled in for the evening, a toasty feel once the heat filled the room. Nicky and Joe took one bed, the girls took the other, and Booker hauled out the fold away, unfolding it and lounging across it with his laptop open. 

When morning came they set out early. Two miles away from town they slowed to let Quynh out and she disappeared into the woods with barely a trace. She would do what she had to do, and they wouldn’t see her again until they needed her. This was just how she worked. 

Joe and Nicky took off down another road, into the backcountry and nearer to the lake to check that out. Booker and Nile rolled into town to check it out. They had plenty of intel, to the point that it felt like they knew the place. 

Strolling into the convenience store, Nile stomped her feet of snow to kick the snow off, and entered, a bell ringing at the door. “What a cute country shop.” She said cheerfully, pulling at Bookers arm to pull him in like an excited girlfriend. 

The two of them smoozed and talked to a young girl at the counter. Buying bottles of water, some jerky, and some time. Asking touristy questions of course. And getting answers they already knew. The girl didn’t give them much more than tourist information. And a wary look. 

At the bar across the way, they saw a few cowboys in thick denim coats and dusters, kicked back and drinking beers. 

“That’s where the photos were taken.” Nile mumbled to Booker as they went to their jeep again. 

“Sounds like we need a beer, honey.” He said with a roll of his eyes, tossed his water and jerky in the jeep and started to walk over to the bar.

\-----

It was barely twenty minutes later and the entire operation was already in trouble.

Nile and Booker went to order beers at the counter, tried to get some more information out, and generally had a relaxing time with little to no good intel out of anyone. Nile excused herself to use the bathroom, where she intended to call and check in on the boys, when she took a wrong turn and pushed a side door open. Inside were a man and woman, tied up like hogs and held with gags in their mouths. 

The gags were wet, clearly in their mouths for a while now. The ropes were tight. Too tight for hands to be tied at the back. Circulation was being cut off from their limbs like this. The man had a swollen black eye and a split lip, blood down his chin and neck. It was old blood. The woman had gash marks on her cheeks where she had been hit with something. 

They both whimpered and flinched, like they were worried she was there to hurt them some more. 

There was a headless body laying on the floor as well, blood everywhere. 

Nile felt her gut turn to ice, her eyes going wide. She had just walked into the room by accident and found Angie Simmons and Bob Clemon. The two missing hikers. Gus Gonzolvas’ body was between them on the floor, head having been hacked off. 

“Wrong turn, missy?” Someone said behind her, and before she knew it, the world was spinning. A blast of light pin pricked behind her eyes and her head, and she was falling. Hit in the back of the head with something. Not hard enough to kill her, but hard enough to knock her out. The last thing she heard was Booker yelling for her, and gunshots going off. 

She should regenerate fast enough, but by time she did, she had ties around her wrists, and the door was shut once more. The two hikers were crying, and the room outside was silent. “Fuck.” She cursed, moving to get to her feet. They weren’t tied. 

With a run at the door she slammed into it. She backed up and did it again, groaning as her shoulder hit it. They’d taken her gun off her back when they tied her hands. Zip tie. She knew how to break these by now. 

It didn’t take long to get out of the ties, and she moved to start freeing the other two in the old cold room with her. The moment he took the ties out of their mouths they started to speak at once, crying out for help. She shh’ed them, trying to keep them calm. 

\-----

In the bar, Booker sat with his back to the bar counter, looking at all the boar and deer heads on the walls. Some pheasant, a quail, a few horns here, there, everywhere. And a badger with a very old Make American Great Again red hat on. He snorted at that. Of course these guys supported that era. At least it was on a fitting animal. 

He sipped at his beer, not really drinking much of it, and watched Nile walk off to the restroom. So far so good. Safe. No crazies yet. There were two men at a table, playing cards. There was a young woman shooting pool in the back, and… 

The bartender followed Nile to the back. 

His brows inch in together at that and he sat his drink down. He moved to stand, but someone behind the bar said “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, city slicker.” Booker froze, turning slowly to see a shotgun pointed at him. 

Well shit. These people were crazy as--He heard a body hit the floor, just in time to drop to the floor himself. The shot gun went off and hit a wall instead of him. The two boys playing cards stood with guns, and Booker took aim and fired at them. 

This was not how this was supposed to go. Just as he raised up to take out the second bar tender, a cue stick struck him from behind. He’d forgotten about the young girl playing pool. 

“Take him out back.” A woman said from a doorway, arms crossed. It was Maria Mossly. The spiritualist and cult leader in this town.

The young girl spoke up. “Ma’am, are you sure we need to do this?” 

“These people are here to take our children! They’re working with the others and are clearly here to save their friends! They must be made an example of!” She waved at the two guys who had been playing cards to take up Booker, his head lulled forward as they dragged him out the back door. 

\-----

It was cold. So cold. Booker found himself outside, in just his jeans and a tank top. His coat was removed, as was his tac-vest. He was left seated in a chair outside, hands tied behind his back. 

There was something around his throat. 

A cold sinking feeling hit him, far colder than the snow and ground around him. He jerked up to his feet, stumbling and trying to break his bound hands apart. There was laughter around him, but he didn’t see anyone. He was blinded by his own fear of what was about to happen that he didn’t even notice the crowd of people. The town gathered around him and the high post set up for… 

A hanging. 

“No…” he gasped, jerking wildly. “Not this….” he choked, and turned to look back. The rope was over the main post, and it draped down to a cowboy on a horse. A woman standing near the horse's back side. Maria Mossly. 

She stood there, smiling a grim smile. “Friends! My people. This man stands here accused of co-Conspiracizing with their fellow kidnappers. If we’re to get our children back, we have to set an example. They WILL tell us where the kids are, or they will all hang!” 

The crowd cheered, but Booker barely heard it all. His head was spinning, a panic settling into his chest. Not this. Anything but this. 

Any _death_ but this. 

It was cold. His boots were gone, his feet frozen feeling. Numb. He wished he were numb as well. This was… this was not good. He got flashes of his first death. Hanging in the winter, for days on end, waiting for the army to pass. He wasn’t sure at all if he could hang here for days again. Wasn’t sure he could manage it. 

“What do we say to the kidnappers?! Not today!” She called out and the town folk repeated it, cheering. Not Today! Not Today! Not Today! 

And then there was a slap, and the horse jumped, pulling forward. The cowboy clicked at it, making the horse move, pulling the rope. 

Booker felt it moving. Felt the rope tightening around his neck. He backed up, feeling as his loose rope tightened. 

There was another slap, and Booker let out a strangled cry. “ _Please_ , not this!” He begged one last time before his breath was cut off. A strangled sound and he moved to tip toes in the snow, then he felt his feet come off the ground. His eyes bulged and tears rolled down his cold face, stinging his eyes. He struggled, kicking, flailing, as he felt his body strangled to death. Cut off from air. If he struggled too hard he’d break his own damn neck. But that might be better to get it over with and just hang. Hang here for… a minute and heal. 

_Fuck_. He was going to heal and wake up and fight it again. There was no stopping it. He could feel himself piss his pants, a natural reaction to his body letting go. Letting loose. And then he felt it, the blackness at the edges, his feet kicking, toes pointed, and… then nothing more. 

The crowd cheered, whooping and hollering in glee. The horse was moved forward and Maria Mossly moved to take the horse, while the cowboy got down and tied the taut rope off. 

Just then the kicking started again, a breath was attempted to be gasped but there was no room past the rope for him to breath. His lungs filled with air on their own, and he choked on it. Kicking, twisting, crying as he felt it tighten more. 

Then he was still. 

The crowd had gasped, never before seeing someone wake up and rock again, but then cheered for it. The man was surely dead now. 

The rope tied off, the horse and ride wandered off, and Maria moved towards the hanged man. 

“JUSTICE!” She yelled out, and once again the crowd cheered. Until they did not, for the body was kicking again. 

Booker felt the rope around his neck, body full of air again. He couldn’t get air to his brain though. In his mind he was awake, but he was back in the past. How had he been so still for days back then? He tried to focus. Tried to stay still. He tightened his neck as best he could and stopped moving, eyes closed. 

His mind spun. This was a nightmare. Nothing more than a nightmare. He’d wake up once again in the hotel, around the others, and it would be over. He never went into the bar. Nile never got locked in a cooler, and he never got hung. 

Where was everyone? 

Nicky and Joe, they were supposed to take a look out high on the hill. Where were they now? He felt his head spinning again, and his eyes were black dots once more. He could hear someone nearby, but not what she said. A slap to his back made his body spin around, and it took all he had not to kick again. And then he passed out once more. Dead.

His body spun around on the post, and the crowd cheered, starting to disperse. 

He woke up once more, holding still as possible, tears seeping from his eyes still. He felt his breath trapped once more, and his head dropped tightly. It hurt. Lord did it hurt. He was freezing, cold and wet, and it hurt. His body was hanging, and his mind focused on trying not to panic. Not to jerk or kick. It was hard. 

And then he died again. 

When he woke up once more, he peeked, seeing people walking away. He closed his eyes again and tried not to gag on the air in his body. Was this what it was like for Quynh? Drowning over and over again? But he had gone through this before. But before, the rope was so frozen it had been easy to loosen the rope enough to hang by his neck and still gain air. This was different. This rope was tight, so very tight. This rope was low on his neck and hard to wiggle in.

_Hang in there, buddy._ he thought to himself, and something in him tried to laugh. Gallows humor. That’s right. Just hang in there. This rope was meant to kill him, but if he just hung in there, it would be fine. 

This rope was meant to kill him, instantly.

And it did. Over and over again. 

\-----

On the hill, Joe and Nicky parked the truck, finding a vantage point over the town. They were back up and eagle eyes. Only, as they were setting up, a little black bird named Quynh caught up to them. 

“I found them.” She said swiftly. 

“Them?” Joe asked, surprised to see her so soon. 

“The children. They are in a compound by the lake. Looks like the cult center.” 

“Because of course the cultists are the ones kidnapping the children.” Nicky growled, looking over the town. At this moment nothing was happening that he could see. “Let’s get them fast, extract Nile and Booker and get the hell out of here.” 

The three of them got into the jeep and she took them back to a compound. Wood and concrete and barbed wire fencing. There were several cowboys walking with rifles and guns, pacing the place, walking the fence. 

There were several dead cowboys a moment later, two swords and arrows flying. The three fought as well as they did back in the day. Back when they had Andy with them. They fought seamlessly, taking out men left and right and clearing the compound swiftly. 

\-----

Nile watched Angie and Bob huddle together in a corner, on the far side of the door as she instructed. They were too wounded to do anything. Too shocked to do more than huddle and cry. 

She had snapped her bonds and was diving at the door. Putting her shoulder into it. It was an old door, wooden though, so it might be possible to get enough force into it. 

A crackle of the com that had been in her ear came from the floor. Her earpiece had fallen and no one picked it up. She grabbed it, shoving it in her heart and speaking. “Nicky?! Joe!” 

Joe’s voice came back, calm and easy. “We’ve got the kids, boss. They--” she cut him off. 

“They have Booker! They fucking have Booker and I can’t get to him! Do you have eyes on the town!?” She ran towards the door again, ramming it and growling in pain. 

“What?!” There was silence on the other side for a moment, long enough for her to ram into the door gain. 

“Give us a minute.” Joe said flatly back, voice stern now. Mad. 

“He might not have a minute!” She barked back, yelling only because she slammed into the door once more. There was a crack at the door, but nothing more. 

“We’re on it, Nile. Just a moment longer.” 

Nile growled, backed up to the far end of the room, trying to avoid the body and blood, and ran, sprinting for the door, and jamming herself into it. CRACK. There went the door, and she stumbled through it. Her shoulder displaced, drooped up and out of socket. She growled, jerking it back into place with a yell and pant. 

And then she felt the shotgun blast hit her square in the chest, sending her backwards and sprawling on the floor.

\-----

Booker hung there, head spinning, coming back to life and dying, over and over. _Control yourself_ he thought, trying not to panic. He had to control himself. 

Maria walked up to him and tutted. “Too bad, little man. May god have mercy on your rotten soul.” 

She pushed him again and he fling, flailing. Gasping for air and losing all his control. His eyes snapped open and the woman looked shocked, stumbling backwards. Unable to control himself he flailed, kicking his legs and feet, trying to find footing. Anything. He choked, gargling on his own air. Legs desperately trying to grab the woman for a hold and missing. 

And died again. 

Maria looked up at him, shocked. Her hand crossing her chest and speaking the Lords name, asking for his guidance as she stumbled to her feet. 

“There is no Lord for you.” Nile said, charging out the back door, front of her shirt bloody, her face growing back her eye and scalp, a bloody mess running down her neck and body.. She took a few too many shots, but the gun fire in the bar was followed by her own special form of attack. 

Trained by Andy, she nearly danced through the bar, picking up anything for a weapon. A bar stool was broken and a leg of the stool shoved into the bartenders head. Shotgun taken and uploaded into a woman with a pool stick. A bottle was taken, broken and shoved into the throat of another bartender. 

The shotgun was in her hands now, and she had reloaded it, running outside. 

“No one will have mercy on your soul.” She said and fired the shot gun into Maria Mossly’s face, knocking her backwards and her head clean off. 

The shot gun was dropped and Nile ran to Booker’s side, Grabbing him and lifting him up. Pushing up enough to loosen the rope. A moment after he gasped, coming back to life, choking for air. 

He gasped real air this time, and sputtered. “Ni--” His voice was rough, unable to form words. 

“I got you! I got you. Hold on. I got you Sebastian! Please hold on.” She said, nearly crying as she pushed him up as best as her short form could. 

In the distance there was a shot. A moment later the rope went slack, and Booker was falling. The two of them toppled to the ground with a hard oof, and Booker was left gasping for air, scrambling to loosen the noose. 

Nile got to his side, crouched over him and pulling the rope off his neck, chucking it to the side. Her hands came up to his face, capturing it, looking him over. “Booker! You’re okay. I got you. I got you.” 

Her face was mostly together again, but it was clear she had taken a blast to the head. Booker choked, staring up at her, and growled as his vocal cords fixed themselves. The bruising around his neck started to fade. “You… look like…. Hell, Boss.” He choked out. 

Nile punched him in the arm softly, leaning over his body and resting her head to his shoulder. “Shut up, asshole. I thought I lost you.” 

“What tha hell are ya?!” Someone called from behind them. A gun in hand. Several other men had come out, guns in hand and pointed at the two of them. 

“Shit.” Nile said, and glanced to where she dropped the shotgun. Well double shit. 

Then someone else yelled. “They killed Mossly!” 

And another voice, a woman. “Devils! They were both dead!” 

“Greece, 2024?” Booker croaked out, questioning her. 

“No. Berlin, 2038.” Nile said, raising her hands. 

“I hate Berlin 2038.” Booker growled from the ground, shivering. 

“I know you do, but it works.” Nile moved to stand up, about to make like she had a weapon in the hopes that they’d shoot her, take her down and then come closer so she could take their weapons. 

But as she moved, a group of women and men came out, guns raised. 

At the cowboys. 

“Alright. That’s enough.” One woman said, cocking her rifle and holding it close. “Mossly is dead. We’re done with her being in charge. You put down your weapons or we’ll put you down, Jacobs.” She warned the cowboy and his band. 

There was a long silence between the three parties. Nile and Booker, shocked still and laying and kneeling in the snow. The four or five Cowboys with guns on them, and the 20 or so men and women defending them. 

“Well, this is new.” Booker said in a choked voice, rubbing his neck as he sat up and whispered that. 

“Yeah, no shit.” Nile said, shocked as well. She started to inch for the shotgun, picking it up while no one was looking. 

“Don’t be a fool, Jacobs.” Another man said, gun drawn. Soon the men were laying down arms and holding their hands up. 

It wasn’t long before the first woman was coming over to Nile and Booker. “Well I’ll be…” She looked over Booker as he had moved to stand, Nile holding him up by his underarm. “I thought you was dead.” 

“I thought I was too.” he choked, leaning into Nile gratefully. 

“Did Copley send ya?” She asked, coming over closer, gun down. The fighting was over it seemed. 

“Yeah. My team has found your children. Apparently that woman had them held up by the lake.” Nile said to the woman, holding onto Booker as if he couldn’t stand on his own. 

\-----

Nicky, Joe and Quynh returned with the 8 children, all cold and hungry, tired and under cared for. They had them stacked up in the jeep, Quynh riding the top of it, Joe driving with the smallest child in his lap, Nicky with another. The older kids in the back. They made it work. 

The people of the town, the less crazy ones at least, were taking care of the more crazy ones. They explained that they were being drugged up at the compound, and half the town had just lost it. It would take time to get things back on track, but they were all just happy to have this over with. They would take care of the hikers and Copley would be informed of what happened. 

The five of them packed up when they were sure it was all taken care of. They returned to the hotel with their stuff and settled in for the night. Joe contacted Copley to update him on what happened. 

The entire band needed rest. 

Rest and a good drink.

\-----

At the bar across from the hotel, the five of them crowded in at the counter, a nicer looking hometown bar, and settled in for a round of drinks. 

Booker stood before the jukebox and read over titles, flipping through it when Quynh came up to his side. She moved his arm, lifting it up and tucking herself under it. The two of them had a lot to disagree upon over the years. After all, she tortured him at sea when she held him captive. But she had changed after finding Andy. She changed again after Andy died. 

They got along well enough now. She looked up at him and gave him a faint smile. “Friends in low places is always an appropriate bar song.” She said, dropping a quarter into the machine. 

Booker turned and found it. Pressed B 12 and let it que up. “It’s a good one.” He agreed. 

She hugged her arm around him for a moment, then sipped her beer, just standing there for a bit. They didn’t need to talk. He knew what she went through, and she knew what he went through. Both watery graves and hanging had happened to them, ages ago. She understood.

\-----

As the night went on, Nicky ordered pizza from the place next door, having it delivered to the bar. When Nicky saw Booker sitting there, staring off at nothing, he came over, dropping a plate before the other man and took a set beside him. 

Feeding people, even if it wasn’t his cooking, was a way to show he cared. 

“Eat. It’s not bad pizza.” 

“I’m not sure I’m up to eating right now, Nicky.” He said flatly, staring down at the piece of everything pizza. It looked good, but his neck was… well, not sore, as it had healed, but it felt raw. 

“Eat.” Nicky stressed again, reaching out to run his hand through Bookers hair, fixing the flop of hair to the other side. He patted his cheek and spoke softly. “You’re fine now. I should have been on that hillside for you. I apologize for being late to get you down, but we survived it.” 

“And all the kids are safe.” Booker finished, letting out a breath. He opened his eyes again and picked up the slice of pizza, taking a bite. “Mmm…” It was actually really good.

Nicky gave a faint smile to Booker. “We can talk, if you need to. I have two good ears.” 

Booker gave a bigger smile, reaching out to pat Nicky on the leg. “Thank you.” 

And he did talk. For a little bit. 

\----- 

As they started to leave the bar, Nile and Quynh hung on each other, singing a song the jukebox played far too many times, dancing along with Nicky trailing behind them, making sure they made it across the street without a problem. 

Joe stepped up beside Booker, looping his arm into his and pulling him along as well. “Are you feeling better?” Joe asked, knowing that Booker had spoken to both Quynh and Nicky a lot tonight. 

Booker pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep smoke, then offering it to Joe, who shook his head and passed on it. Booker took another drag and let it out to the side. “Better.” He admitted, walking along and across the street with Joe. 

“You did good out there, Joe. You three are unstoppable.” 

“It was all Quynh. She found the compound before we even got set up over town.”

“Mm, I heard about the take down though. I saw the jackets too.” Booker pointed out. 

Joe’s head bowed a bit, and he spoke softly. “I should have left Nicky on the hillside. To keep an eye on you. I am glad we got to you when we did however. If only it were sooner.” 

“It was soon enough, Joe. It was soon enough.” He said as they got to the steps to the hotel rooms. The two of the paused to watch as Nicky tried to get two drunk immortals to balance on the stairs. Get them UP the stairs and to their room. 

The two men chuckled and Joe leaned in to hug Booker. He might get pissed at Booker sometimes, but he did love him. “I’m glad you are still with us.” He said, and let go, moving to go help Nicky get the girls up the steps. 

Booker staggered a bit himself, but he had much practice with this kind of thing. 

\-----

Booker had the fold out open, laying on his side on it and curling a pillow in his arms, his head resting on part of it. He stared, at nothing. While Joe and Nicky settled down, the two of them looked worriedly to Booker, then back to Nile. Nile just…. Nodded, understanding. 

Nile pat Quynh and wished her good night with a small smile, then rolled out of the bed, and moved over to Booker and his fold out. She crouched there a moment, standing in front of him, seeing him stare through her. She reached to run a hand through his hair. 

That got his attention. 

He stared at Nile and then blinked, frowning. A whisper of “I’m alright.” Was said to Nile as he stared at her. 

“I’m not.” She whispered back, then nudged him to make room for her.

He blinked, then scooted back a bit, giving her room to join him. 

She did, sliding in beside him, face to face. She lay there beside him a moment, looking at him, before she folded in on him. Her body curling up beside him, arm slipping over his side and looping around his back. She moved her leg, sliding on between his and nesting in his arms. 

He looped his arm over her and pulled her close, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry. I tried to get to you.” He said faintly, his voice barely carrying in the room. 

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. I couldn’t get to you in time.” She said sadly, tightening her grip around his middle. 

“But you got to me in the end.” He assured her, curling his head down to press to hers. Forehead to Forehead Soft and tender. He didn’t care that the others might hear. He seemed to relax a bit more around Nile. 

Nile turned her head so her lips were near his poor neck. She pressed a soft kiss to his neck, eyes closed, arm looped around him and getting comfortable in the bed with him. It might have been more practical to make him join her on the master bed, but this was fine. 

This was fine. 

“I thought I lost you.” She said softly to Booker, curling her face into his neck.

“Takes more than a little rope to take me away from you.” He said back coolly, but she could tell he caught on his own comment. 

To be close to him now was all she needed, and she hoped it helped him. 

As they slept, she could tell he was having nightmares. It had to be from the strangling. Andy had once told her that Quynh had struggled like that as well. That holding her helped. Nile hoped that holding him helped as well. When he shook in nightmare, she tightened her hold around him, reaching a hand up to pet his hair. He relaxed some. 

That night they slept together, wrapped around each other. 

\-----

The ride home was silent. Quynh rode with Nicky and Joe as they drove back to Sacramento international airport, and the five of them put the cars back into a place that Copley’s people could come and take care of it for them. Weapons and all. 

Boarding the plane, Nile made sure to sit next to Booker this time, leaning back in her middle row seat and curling up next to him. He reached out to take her hand, curling his fingers into hers and squeezed tightly, holding it for most the flight. 

He was grateful that he wasn’t left there alone for days on end. Grateful to not freeze to death. Grateful that Nile had him in his last moments of hopelessness. And grateful that she was here by his side now. 

Grateful that they all were at his side.


End file.
